


hq!! rarepair fic collection

by crunchrapsupreme



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Asphyxiation, BDSM, Bondage, Choking, Collars, Crying, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Frottage, Gags, Leashes, M/M, Making Out, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Praise Kink, Recreational Drug Use, Shotgunning, Shower Sex, Vibrators, kitten play, swole!bokuto, working out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-27 20:23:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6299035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crunchrapsupreme/pseuds/crunchrapsupreme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a collection of hq!! rarepair drabbles because i love me some rarepairs</p>
<p>*each chapter is it's own respective fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. oikawa/daichi, nsfw

**Author's Note:**

> daddy kink + kitten play

Daichi would’ve never thought that Oikawa would be into something so….  _ well _ , actually, that’s a lie. He knew Oikawa was into some outlandish shit, so it was really just a matter of time until something of this nature popped up. 

Daichi didn’t expect himself to like it this much, though. He’s pretty sure he’s spent more money on Oikawa and this deep rooted  _ thing _ that makes his blood boil, than he has on basic shit like condoms and lube. Getting a package in the mail, now, is either one of two things; more school books, or a plethora of items from his favorite online store bookmarked especially for Oikawa. 

Daichi carefully rips open the package that came this morning, sifting through the contents inside and biting his lip as he imagines what Oikawa will look like, all gussied up and ready and willing. Oikawa isn’t going to be home for another hour, and Daichi is planning on making this a long, thorough night for the both of them. 

_ God _ , who would’ve ever thought Daichi would get so sucked up in something like this?

He keeps the package, closed, on his lap while he watches TV to pass the time, and before he knows it, the door is rattling with a key as Oikawa makes his way inside, kicking the door shut behind him and greeting Daichi with a wave and a grin. His hair is a little damp from the sprinkling rain outside, and the tip of his nose is pink from the chill. Daichi swallows. 

“Yo,” Oikawa greets, toeing off his shoes and shedding his jacket, draping it over the back of the couch as he saunters over to Daichi, plopping down next to him on the couch. His eyes immediately zoom in to the brown box in Daichi’s lap, curling, pink letters printed on the top, revealing its source: 

_ Kitten’s PlayPen. _

“Oh?” Oikawa grins, leaning towards Daichi and reaching for the box, “What do we have here?”

Daichi lightly slaps his hand away, shooting Oikawa a look. “It’s for you. But I get to dress you.”

Oikawa visibly shivers, his resistance easily crumbling as he curls into himself, slinking onto the floor, Daichi’s voice like a fucking switch to his brain, submitting him and coating him like warm honey, caressing in all of the right places. 

Oikawa’s on his knees now, in front of Daichi who’s still seated on the couch, and Daichi parts his knees, leaning forward to tug off Oikawa’s sweater, tossing it aside and letting his eyes rake down the flat planes of his chest, his stomach expanding with each eager breath he takes. 

He locks eyes with Oikawa, then, and sees the trust there, with an undertone of snark that has Daichi slipping a hand into his hair and tugging,  _ hard _ . 

Oikawa gasps and follows the movement, eyes flashing darkly as Daichi lets go, reaching for the box and opening it up, pulling out the first item. It’s a pair of realistic looking cat ears, the fur a nice dark chocolate brown, almost the same color as Oikawa’s perfectly styled hair. Daichi gently slides them on Oikawa’s head, adjusting them to Oikawa’s comfort level, and fixing a few strands of hair that get caught before leaning back, and looking him over. 

His mouth goes dry as he sees Oikawa staring at him through his lashes, eyes doe-like and curious, completely different than his usual half-lidded, sharp gaze. 

Daichi blinks, and reaches down for the next item in the box. 

Oikawa visibly squeezes his legs together when Daichi pulls out the next item, because he’s been repetitively throwing hints at Daichi about getting him a new collar. The one they have now is a cheap black leather one from a shitty sex shop down the road. It looks more like a small belt than a  _ collar _ , but it did the job they needed and that was that. 

The collar that Daichi pulls out of the box is something else entirely, and Oikawa can’t help the quiet noise that escapes him when Daichi dangles it in front of his face. It’s a pale, sky blue, with little lace frills around it, giving it an upscale, almost delicate feel, and there are two small blue bows on the front, framing a silver ring that has a small silver bell attached to it. And then Daichi pulls the next item out of the box with his other hand, and Oikawa actually shivers. 

It’s a matching leash. 

Daichi sets the leash down on the couch next to him, and opens his knees wider, motioning for Oikawa to come closer. Oikawa obeys, scooting on his knees until he’s pressed between the bracket of Daichi’s thighs, and then Daichi angles his head down, unhooking the collar and then bringing it around Oikawa’s neck. He has to lean over Oikawa’s shoulder to see, clasping it in the back, and Oikawa can’t help it when he presses his nose into the side of Daichi’s neck, breathing in his cologne like it’s a damn drug. 

Daichi chuckles, tightening the collar enough that Oikawa gasps and fists his hands tight enough to leave small crescent shapes in the palms of his hands. 

Once he’s pulled back, Daichi flicks the little bell resting in the hollow of Oikawa’s throat playfully, and Oikawa swallows, eyes latching onto the leash that Daichi is now clutching in his fingers, teasingly stroking the length of it until his fingers grip the clip at the end, opening it up and swiftly locking it into the silver ring on Oikawa’s collar. He gives an experimental tug, and Oikawa feels his body move against his will, swaying on his knees and placing his palms on Daichi’s knees to ground himself. 

Daichi schools his face into something heavy, something to be listened to, and he swiftly stands up, the leash clutched in his hand. 

“C’mon,” He says, voice low, and Oikawa can’t do anything but follow. Daichi walks at a soothingly slow pace to the bedroom, occasionally looking behind him to make sure Oikawa is crawling behind, eager and so, so sweet, with eyes like gold and his rosy lips parted as he breathes out softly. 

“Up,” Daichi commands, pointing to the bed, and Oikawa bites his lip on a smile, standing up lazily before crawling onto the bed, but he gasps as Daichi crowds after him, pushing him down and gripping him by the chin. “Are you gonna be good for me?”

Oikawa blinks, and a slow smile melts across his face. “I dunno, _ am _ I?”

Daichi fists the collar in one hand, tugging  _ hard _ , and Oikawa yelps  as the collar tightens around his neck. 

“Yes, you are.”

Daichi quickly sheds Oikawa’s jeans and boxers, leaving him naked and vulnerable, and then he’s doing the same to himself, grabbing the lube from the table before winding the leash back around his fist, pulling it taut as he spreads Oikawa’s legs apart, reaching down to dribble lube over his cock, watching it drip down between his cheeks lewdly. Oikawa practically  _ mewls _ when Daichi works in a finger, and then two, so thorough and quick in his preparation that Oikawa’s already trembling beneath him, fingers fisting the sheets and back arching as Daichi finally slides in place. 

“Don’t come until I say,” Daichi threatens, still somehow managing to sound caring and sweet despite the hardness to his voice, and then,  _ fuck _ , and then he’s sliding in, tugging the leash roughly as he slides his other hand up, cupping the side of Oikawa’s neck and pressing his thumb in right at his windpipe, cutting off Oikawa’s airflow. 

Oikawa  _ writhes _ , choked, sobbing noises managing to escape as he tilts his head back, eyes fluttering in pleasure as he claws welts down Daichi’s shoulders and biceps, gasping everytime Daichi lets his hand up only to press down once more. Oikawa can feel himself getting light headed, his cock pulsing when it brushes against Daichi’s abs with every thrust, and Oikawa gasps out meekly,

“Please,  _ ah _ , please let me come.” He’s wrecked, through to the bone and his brain and all of the intimate places of his mind that Daichi has successfully moddled. “Please _ , d-daddy,  _ I’ve been _ so good, fuck, let me come, please _ !”

Daichi grunts, cupping the side of Oikawa’s face and working his thumb into the other boy’s mouth, watching as Oikawa eagerly sucks on the tip of his finger, and only then does Daichi shudder, thrusting in hard and fast as he leans down, presses their foreheads together, and whispers,

“You’ve been  _ such  _ a good boy. You can come now.”


	2. kuroo/noya, nsfw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a/b/o + going into heat

 

Noya is Kuroo’s dream omega, basically. 

He’s always been worried, once he presented, that he’d end up bonding with an omega who was shy, submissive to his every whim, lacking to any sort of superiority. Sure, that’s the sort of omega that most alpha’s  _ want _ , in the long run, but Kuroo wants something a little different. He craves something that will fight back, make him  _ work _ for their compliance, because Kuroo knows that the reward will be that much sweeter. 

And then he meets Noya. 

Noya is something else entirely.  He’s all over the place, tongue as quick as a whip, body lithe and flexible but strong in all the right places. Kuroo is drawn to him immediately, and the first time they kiss, outside of the gym after a practice match between their schools, Noya grins into his mouth, tugging at the front of Kuroo’s shirt, says, 

“I saw you watching me.”

Having an omega so upfront, so  _ forward _ about something like that has Kuroo’s blood boiling, his skin prickling, and Noya soon slides his hand into Kuroo’s back pocket, grabs his phone, and enters his number. From this close up, Kuroo can smell him, his scent heady and strong mixed with sweat from their practice match. Kuroo has the sudden urge to tug at that silly strip of blond hair brushing over Noya’s eyes. 

“Call me, okay?” Noya says, grinning up at him, bright and predatory, and Kuroo swallows because  _ he’s _ supposed to be the predator; this boy is making him feel like goddamned  _ prey _ . 

He bounds off with a wave, jogging away from the school, and when Kenma walks out of the gym, changed and ready to head back, he shoots Kuroo a look, smells the thick scent of arousal in the air and wrinkles his nose. 

“C’mon, let’s get back before you chase him down like an animal.”

_ I am an animal _ , Kuroo wants to say, clutching the straps of his bag tighter,  _ and I’m going to eat that boy alive. _

\--

They see each other,  _ a lot _ ; makeout sessions lasting for hours on Kuroo’s couch after school, heavy petting and slow grinding on Noya’s bed when his parents are gone for the night. It’s    
_ awesome _ , and Noya is so fucking  _ hot _ , skin on fire practically, always flushed pink when he’s aroused, and he’s always pushing Kuroo down, taking what he wants even though Kuroo can feel the way he trembles with want when Kuroo’s hands hold him in place. Like he  _ wants _ to submit, but god knows Kuroo hasn’t tried hard enough. 

Kuroo’s never had to work harder to have sex with someone than he does now, and it’s  _ awesome _ . 

Kuroo learns that Noya is aggressive in the sweetest way, grabbing Kuroo by the wrists and dragging his hands to cup his ass, and Kuroo always is eager to please, eager to see Noya’s pleased, almost proud grin as he grinds down against Kuroo’s hips.

It’s foriegn, welcome, and practical insanity.

And then Noya goes into heat. 

Kuroo gets the call on Sunday night, a school night, and it’s late. Noya had been acting a little weird lately, a little more distant and he looked pale, sickly almost, and he kept clenching his fists when they’d hang out, body coiled up tight. He had claimed he was just not feeling very well, and Kuroo had frowned but accepted his excuse, kissing him on the forehead before biking back home. 

“ _ Kuroo _ ,” Noya whispers through the phone once Kuroo has answered.

“Noya, it’s like, midnight,” Kuroo says, pursing his lips. “What’s up?”

“Kuroo,  _ Kuroo _ ,” Noya breathes through the phone, and he… fuck, he sounds like he’s  _ jerking off _ , holy  _ shit _ . 

“ _ Noya _ ? Are you - ”

“I need you to come over  _ r-right now _ .”

Kuroo doesn’t need to be asked twice. He knows exactly what’s going on. His skin is already crawling, his forehead beading up with sweat, and he makes an affirmative noise into the receiver before hanging up, shoving on his shoes and running out the door. He’s lucky his parents are deep sleepers, because he’s pretty sure he’s panting loud enough to wake the whole neighborhood as he bikes over to Noya’s place. 

Noya’s tugging him into the house before he even climbs fully off his bike, stumbling over the front porch before hopping inside. 

“Hey, calm down - ”

“My parents are at my grandmother’s house tonight,” Noya mutters, already tugging at Kuroo’s belt, and Kuroo reaches down, grabs his wrists and holds them away from his body. Noya makes a pitiful noise, angry and impatient, and Kuroo shushes him. 

“Stop. You’re in heat.”

“Yeah no  _ shit _ ,” Noya hisses, tugging insistently at his hands, and the fact that Kuroo seems to hold him in place with relative ease makes Noya even harder, if that’s possible. 

“If we’re doing this, we’re doing it  _ my way _ ,” Kuroo says lowly, eyes dark and lidded as he pins his stare to Noya’s own gaze. This is the first time Kuroo’s ever really shown the alpha side of him since they got together. His voice seems to nail Noya in place, body going limp almost of his own accord, and then Kuroo is spinning them around, pressing Noya into the closed door and shoving his face into Noya’s neck. 

He rubs their scent together, inhaling it like a drug, and Noya trembles, his hands gripping Kuroo’s biceps as he whispers, “ _ Please, please, Kuroo, it hurts, fuck. _ ”

“Shh, I know,” Kuroo murmurs, and when he pulls away slightly, Noya’s gripping his wrist hard enough to bruise and dragging him upstairs to the bedroom, shoving Kuroo on the bed and immediately crawling on top of him. Noya’s wearing only basketball shorts and a tank top, and when Kuroo glances down, he sees something slick and wet coating the insides of Noya’s legs, and -  _ oh _ . 

“What do we have here?” Kuroo murmurs, flipping them over and tugging Noya’s shorts down. He’s not wearing anything underneath them, and his cock stands flushed and hard once Kuroo’s tossed the shorts to the ground. He parts Noya’s thighs, leering at him as he slides two fingers up the wet trail on Noya’s inner thigh. 

Noya goes red, and this is the first time Kuroo’s  _ ever _ seen Noya get any sort of embarrassed in bed. It’s cute, really, and Kuroo’s grin grows wider as he rubs his palm through the slick around Noya’s ass, his hole clenching when Kuroo rubs the wetness with his thumb, and  _ fuck _ , he’s so eager. Noya’s body arches into his hands, and Kuroo sighs through his nose, watching as more wetness leaks out, coating the sheets below them. 

“You’re so wet,” Kuroo breathes out, almost in awe, and Noya makes a quiet sound in response, frustrated and slightly shy, and Kuroo groans, slipping two fingers inside just to feel how easy and perfect the slide is. Noya cries out at the intrusion, thrusting down onto Kuroo’s fingers as he says, 

“Fuckin’ -  _ fuck _ me,  _ c’mon _ , please,  _ please _ .”

That’s more than enough encouragement for Kuroo, and he presses his nose into Noya’s neck as he slides his cock in, breaching his hole, so wet,  _ wet, so fucking perfect god.  _

Noya nuzzles into Kuroo’s hair, murmurs of praise and pleads dripping from his lips as Kuroo fucks him into the bed. Kuroo hooks his arms underneath Noya’s legs, folding him in half and decidedly proving right all of the time Noya had bragged about how flexible he is. 

The angle has Noya clawing at Kuroo’s back, practically  _ sobbing _ as he bites into the meat of Kuroo’s shoulder, whining high and needy as he comes untouched between, Kuroo’s cock inside him the sole reason for his premature orgasm. That thought in itself has Kuroo moaning and gasping into Noya’s neck, placing bitey little kisses on the skin there as he quickly pulls out, reaching a hand down to pump himself until he comes all over Noya’s hole, dripping down his ass cheeks and mixing with the wetness that’s already there. Noya’s still fucking  _ hard _ , already mewling as he ruts up against Kuroo’s thigh, ready for round two, and Kuroo rolls his eyes, flopping down next to him and holding him close, Noya whining into his chest. 

“This is gonna be a long night,” Kuroo murmurs into Noya’s hair, chuckling as Noya just grunts and grinds against him harder. 

Not that Kuroo minds though, he thinks as he clutches Noya close, already feeling himself getting aroused again. Nope, he doesn’t mind at all.


	3. tanaka/tsukishima, nsfw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shower sex

 

Contrary to popular belief, all of the endless energy that Tanaka seems to have crashes incredibly at the end of the day. Tsukishima finds himself watching his documentaries alone most night because Tanaka’s already passed the fuck out, face smushed into Tsukishima’s neck, mouth open and drooling most likely. Tsukishima usually has to rouse him after he’s ready to go to bed himself because Tanaka’s dead weight traps Tsukishima onto the couch. Then, Tanaka sleepily rolls off the couch, slumps off to the bed, and Tsukishima rolls his eyes before following him, unconsciously looking forward the being enveloped in the warmth of Tanaka’s arms. 

So, inevitably, Tanaka always sleep in fucking late as hell because it’s like his body needs twice as much sleep as a normal human in order to produce the large amount of energy in such a short amount of time to propel him throughout the day. 

Steam fogs up Tsukishima’s glasses as he waits for the shower to get hot enough, shedding his shirt and sleep pants and folding them up on the countertop, and finally his glasses, folding them up carefully and setting them next to the sink. He climbs in the shower, letting out a quiet hiss when the hot water hits his skin, but he quickly gets used to it, his pale complexion turning pink under the heat.

Tanaka’s still in bed, as expected, so Tsukishima nearly has a heart attack and loses his balance when the shower doors slide open and a body is climbing in, a large hand gripping Tsukishima’s arm to steady him as a warm chuckle fills the air. 

“Chill, it’s just me,” Tanaka laughs, his voice raspy with sleep. 

“Why are you awake,” Tsukishima deadpans, shivering a bit when Tanaka weaves his fingers into his blonde locks, tugging teasingly. 

“Dunno. I heard the shower turn on when I was still half-asleep, and then I imagined fucking you against the tile wall here and I kind of just woke up. Ran so fast to get here I almost tripped and busted my head open.”

Tsukishima coughs behind his hand to hide his smile, but Tanaka notices anyways, leering at him with a wide grin before crowding him against the wall. The tile is cool on Tsukishima’s back, and when he glances down, water is cascading down Tanaka’s chest, tanned dark and muscles defined, and he’s always loved the way Tanaka’s hands looked in contrast to his own skin, so large they can cup his hips, make him feel so delicate beneath his fingertips. 

“So, what d’ya say?” Tanaka grins, crowding closer, and Tsukishima ‘tsk’s, turning his head slightly and trying to stay composed, but Tanaka’s mouthing at his neck now, up his jaw, across his cheek, finally reaching up to grip Tsukishima’s face and turn it towards him to slot their lips together. Tsukishima sighs through his nose, still not used to how weirdly  _ gentle _ Tanaka is. His fiery personality makes it seem like he'd be an aggressor, but he’s all sweet words and even sweeter touches, his hand trailing down Tsukishima’s back to cup his ass, his thumb dipping between his cheeks to press against his hole. 

Tsukishima shudders, gripping Tanaka’s shoulders as the older boy grins, finally sliding both his hands under Tsukishima’s thighs and lifting him up. Tsukishima glares half-heartedly, but is secretly pleased with the way Tanaka can lift him up like he weighs nothing,  _ god _ . 

Tanaka latches his mouth onto Tsukishima’s neck again, and Tsukishima groans and tosses his head back, the painful sting from his skull hitting the tile nothing compared to the delicious friction of Tanaka’s dick sliding wetly against his own. The water cascading down them makes the movements slick and hot, and Tsukishima is quickly digging his nails into Tanaka’s shoulders, shaking against him as he rocks down into Tanaka’s thrusts. 

“Oh,  _ fuck _ , c’mon,” Tsukishima murmurs, voice terse as he tries to hide how breathless he is. Tanaka just hums against the sensitive skin below his jaw, biting gently as he rolls his hips more, and soon Tsukishima is choking back a cry as he comes, his hand darting down between them to wrap around both of their dicks, using his own come to make the slide of his fist around Tanaka’s dick that much dirtier. 

Tanaka comes with a loud moan muffled into Tsukishima’s shoulder, teeth sinking into the skin a little harder than Tsukishima normally prefers, and he winces but takes it, because he knows how much Tanaka loves leaving marks on his body. He says it fires him up even more before a game if he can see the edge of a bite mark peeking out of Tsukishima’s jersey collar, and Tsukishima had snorted and rolled his eyes at that, because Tanaka’s absolutely  _ ridiculous _ . But, even then, he gets warm whenever Tanaka stares hungrily at his neck during practices, like he’s imagining what he can do the skin underneath his clothes with just his mouth. 

The water has started to grow a little cooler when Tanaka finally lowers Tsukishima back onto the ground, and Tsukishima winces, rubbing at his shoulder that was pressed into the tile wall. 

“Mm. I should wake up early more often if you let me do this every morning,” Tanaka says, waggling his eyebrows as he grabs for the body wash. Tsukishima rolls his eyes,

“I’d let you do this anyways, even if you didn’t get up early,” Tsukishima mutters in response, trying to hide the flush of his cheeks by grabbing for the shampoo and quickly cleaning himself off. 

Tanaka catches the pink tinting Tsukishima’s face though, but he merely smiles his response and grabs for the shampoo to wash Tsukishima’s curly locks for him.


	4. oikawa/bokuto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> grocery shopping + cooking together

Oikawa’s lost him  _ again.  _ God, Bokuto is like a kid in a candy store; except replace  _ kid  _ with irresponsible young adult and replace  _ candy store _ with the produce aisle. 

He pushes the cart around the corner, and breathes a sigh of relief when he finally spots Bokuto picking through a pile of red onions, humming in thought loud enough that the young lady standing next to him shoots a nervous look before quickly darting away. Oikawa sighs and walks forward, nudging Bokuto in the leg with their half-full cart. 

“ _ Necessities _ , Bokuto,” Oikawa points out. “We came here only for the thing we need, remember?”

“But I need onions for dinner tonight!” Bokuto protests, and Oikawa throws his hands up and shakes his head in defeat. 

“Okay. Okay, fine, you win,” he exclaims, watching as Bokuto grins in triumph and bags a few rich looking onions and tossing them in the cart. Oikawa’s eyes narrow. “I’m going to just pretend to believe you tonight when you tell me you  _ actually _ know how to cook.”

\--

“Holy shit, you  _ actually _ know how to cook.”

Oikawa’s leaning against the counter, watching as Bokuto darts around their small apartment kitchen, tossing things into pans and chopping up vegetables and artistically sprinkling spices on whatever he deems needs it. Well, to be fair,  _ artistically _ is a little objective; Bokuto’s a fucking messy chef, but he’s doing way more than Oikawa had expected. And even better? It smells fucking  _ heavenly _ . 

“Did you  _ doubt  _ my food prepping abilities, Tooru?”

“Well, yes,” Oikawa answers honestly, but then grins when he spots the smudge of butter across Bokuto’s cheek. “Alas, I have been proven wrong.”

“Damn right you have,” Bokuto proclaims, tightening the ties of his apron and giving Oikawa a toothy grin. “Wanna help?”

Oikawa snorts and crosses his arms. “I’m fine just observing, thank you.”

Bokuto frowns. “C’mon! It’ll be  _ romantic! _ Help me sensually stir the noodles or something!”

Oikawa actually laughs out loud this time, running a hand through his hair before deciding to contribue to Bokuto’s ridiculous but endearing fantasies, coming around the counter and sliding up behind the other male. Bokuto hums happily when Oikawa places a hand on his hip, his other hand wrapping around Bokuto’s as he stirs the pot of noodles and vegetables. Oikawa presses closer, even, tightening his fingers over Bokuto’s wrapped around the wooden spoon. 

After a few moments of silence, Bokuto’s shoulders starts to shake, and soon he’s giggling and leaning back into Oikawa’s chest. 

“This is weird!” He laughs, stirring a little faster and giggling as Oikawa’s arm follows his movements. 

“You asked for this,” Oikawa points out, but can’t help grinning into the back of Bokuto’s neck as he withdraws his hand, instead opting for wrapping both arms around Bokuto’s waist and kissing his nape. Bokuto shifts a bit before letting out a content sigh, finally taking the noodles off the heat and turning around in Oikawa’s arms, making to break free to cut up some more vegetables, but Oikawa tightens his hold, kissing Bokuto’s ear as the other male struggles. 

“C’mon, let me go! I gotta finish dinner, or we’ll never get to eat!” Bokuto laughs, leaning back a bit to boop Oikawa on the nose and  _ god _ , Oikawa thinks, feeling the center of his chest grow uncomfortably warm, he’s so far gone for Bokuto it’s almost comical. 

“I’ll only let you go for a price,” Oikawa teases, swallowing thickly when Bokuto stares at him determinedly, eyes wide and glittering in the dim, shitty overhead light of their kitchen. “You have to give me a kiss.”

Bokuto rolls his eyes before cupping Oikawa’s cheek and leaning forward, but right as their mouths are about to meet, Oikawa smirks and whispers against Bokuto’s parted lips,

“With  _ tongue _ .”

And Bokuto doesn’t even hesitate as grins wide enough his eyes crinkle, barrelling forward and eagerly paying the price Oikawa had set, plus more. 


	5. suga/hinata

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cafe!au + crying

Suga sees him every Monday and Thursday. He sits in the same place, sometimes he’s with someone (usually a kid with bleached hair covering his face, his roots grown out enough to be considered a fashion statement), but most of the times he’s alone. He has bright orange hair, which seems attention drawing in itself, and he’s usually extremely animated when he first orders at the counter, before taking his laptop bag and settling into his usual spot for the next few hours. 

Suga’s talked to him a few times, but not enough to really get to know him. Hell, he doesn’t even know his  _ name _ yet, but his presence is addicting, and his coworker rolls his eyes as he sees Suga eyeing the door expectantly for the familiar head of orange hair. 

“Why don’t you actually  _ talk to him _ this time?” Tsukishima says, adjusting his glasses and tying his apron around his waist. He’s part of the closing shift with Suga, and it’s Monday so it’s sure to be pretty slow. 

Suga frowns at him. “I  _ do _ talk to him.”

“Asking how his day is before taking his order isn’t the same as talking to him.” Tsukishima sighs and heads to the sink to wash his hands. “At least get his  _ name  _ this time.”

Suga pouts, but then perks up as the door dings, signaling a customer, and when Suga sees the familiar face, he smiles and hops to the register to take his order. 

There’s something off today, though. The boy looks stressed, bags under his eyes and his bottom lip red, as if he’s been gnawing on his all day. His eyes are red-rimmed, too, and his knuckles are white where they’re clutching the strap of his bag. 

Suga worries his bottom lip when the kid makes it to the counter, and he greets him with a nod. “Hi, how are you doing today?”

It's the same spiel he always says, but it’s a little quieter this time, and the kid’s eyes lower a fraction as if he knows Suga can tell something’s bothering him. “Um, fine, thank you.”

“Your usual?” Suga offers, and the kid hesitates before shaking his head. 

“Ah, can I just get a green tea and a cinnamon croissant please? I’m trying to cut back on coffee.”

He smiles, then, but it’s small and a little forced. Suga’s frown deepens as he rings up the order and takes the cash handed to him. 

“I’ll bring that out for you in a few minutes, okay?” Suga says, and the kid nods and thanks him again before heading over to his usual table by the window at the front of the cafe. Tsukishima raises an eyebrow as him when Suga turns around, and Suga shrugs and wipes his hands on his apron before starting the tea. 

“He seems less annoyingly chipper today,” Tsukishima observes, and Suga nods as he grabs porcelain cup and saucer for the tea. 

“I hope he’s okay,” Suga says softly, and when he looks over at the boy’s table, he has his head buried in his arms, his bag set to the side unopened. He looks absolutely  _ miserable _ , and it’s breaking Suga’s heart. 

“Your fifteen minute break is in a few minutes,” Tsukishima says after a moment, bagging the croissant and handing it to Suga. “Why don’t you take it now?”

Tsukishima is a man of few words and even fewer kind gestures, so Suga smiles at him with the deepest appreciation he can muster as he unties his apron and hangs it up before grabbing the kid’s order and heading over to his table. The boy is still lying with his head in his arms when Suga approaches, so he clears his throat gently to get his attention. 

When the boy raises his head in surprise, Suga’s heart  _ twists _ , because the boy’s eyes are wet and his lip is trembling and it looks like he’s one string away from breaking apart completely. 

Suga sets down his tea and croissant, and the boy hastily wipes his eyes. 

“T-thank you,” he says, voice shaky, and Suga smiles at him. 

“Um, I’m on my break. Do you mind if I sit here?”

The boy looks a little shocked, but not in a bad way, and he nods silently as he watches Suga pull out a chair and sit across from him. 

“I know you like things sweet, so I put extra honey in your tea,” Suga says, smiling still and pushing the saucer towards the boy. “I’m Suga, by the way.”

The boy’s lips twitch on a smile. “I’m Hinata.”

“You’ve been coming here for a while, yeah?”

Hinata nods, sniffling wetly and taking a sip of his tea. “I usually come here to study after my university classes let out. My best friend sometimes comes to help tutor me, but he doesn’t like to go out very much.”

Suga hums. “I graduated last year, maybe I could help you sometime?”

Hinata’s eyes glow brighter, and he finally looks a little more like his usual self for a brief moment. “Really? That would be  _ awesome _ , wow, you’re so kind!”

Suga flushes a bit and rubs the back of his neck. “It’s nothing. I miss school, it’ll be good for me too.”

It’s silent for a moment, but then Hinata’s phone vibrates on the table between them. His face falls abruptly once more, and he grips the tea cup hard enough his knuckles pop quietly. His lip starts to wobble again, and Suga wouldn’t have even noticed if he wasn’t staring so hard at the kid’s face. 

“Are you… okay?” Suga finally asks, voice gentle, and when the teacup starts to shake in Hinata’s hand, Suga reaches out unthinkingly and steadies it with his own hand, his fingers warm as they overlap Hinata’s smaller ones. 

“I’m - yeah, I’m sorry,” Hinata sniffles, setting down his tea and wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. Suga pulls his hand back, already missing the warmth underneath his fingers, and Hinata continues in a murmur, “It’s just. Family stuff.”

It doesn’t sound like he wants to delve any further into it, and Suga respects that, though he is worried. He just nods, though, and pushes the croissant towards Hinata, and when the boy looks up at him, Suga’s breath catches, because even with tears pooling in his large eyes once more, he’s still so  _ beautiful _ , and Suga can see the freckles dotting his nose and cheeks, can see the damp pinkness of his bitten lips, and Suga’s never seen someone look so incredible while crying.  

“Here, eat,” Suga finally manages to get out, nodding towards the food. “It’ll make you feel a little better.”

Hinata sniffs and breaks off a piece of the croissant. “Why are you being so nice to me? You don’t even know me.”

Suga smiles, small but passionate, and his own cheeks color pink as he shrugs. “I’d like to get to know you.”

Hinata looks confused for a moment, but then  _ he _ ’s blushing, and fighting a smile behind his hand and the corners of his eyes, still a little damp, crinkle with a small grin. 

“You know, there’s actually a cafe a little closer to my campus,” he says, and then he’s looking straight at Suga, lowering his hand so Suga can see that bright, blinding smile back on his face. “But I enjoy coming to this one much more.”


	6. bokuto/kenma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> first date + first kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> literally 3k words of complete fluff because i fuckin love bokuken

The door swings open, and a gush of cold, winter air sweeps through the library. Kenma shivers from his seat at the front desk, reaching up and flicking a strand of hair out of his eyes from the sudden breeze. When his eyes land on the student who just entered, he sighs and adjusts his glasses, face void of expression as the grinning man clambers over to him. 

“Bokuto-san.”

“Kenma! Hi, how’s your day? Have you eaten lunch yet?”

“I told you not to visit me at work,” Kenma says levelly, idly playing with his fingerless gloves, tugging them tighter and picking at the frays near his knuckles. It gets awfully cold in the university library during this time of year, but Kenma can’t wear full gloves because they hinder his typing so he’d be unable to properly do his job, so Akaashi had helpfully snipped the tips off of some old gloves he had and gave them to Kenma the beginning of the winter season. 

“Aw, but why?” Bokuto pouts, leaning over the front desk and very obviously invading Kenma’s bubble. Kenma swallows at the sincere, bright-eyed man before him, before pursing his lips and rolling his eyes. 

“You’re loud.”

“I can be quiet!” Bokuto exclaims, and when Kenma raises an eyebrow, Bokuto gasps and lowers his voice into a poorly disguised whisper, “I can be quiet, see?”

“Where’s Kuroo? Why can’t you go bother him?”

Bokuto frowns. “He’s over at Yaku’s place. Yaku’s parents aren’t home and I  _ totally  _ made him go, because I think we both know - ”

Kenma holds a hand up. “Okay, thank you.”

Bokuto grins knowingly, and Kenma is a  _ little _ proud. Kuroo’s been crushing on Yaku since  _ high school _ , and when they ended up at the same university, Kenma had pretended he wasn’t impatient but good lord, the time it took for Kuroo to make a damn move is the time it would’ve taken an entire garden to grow. 

“Anyways, how’s work? Are you busy? Akaashi told me you picked up some more hours, you should really make sure you’re resting and eating properly and - ”

“Bokuto-san, please,” Kenma interrupts, but there’s a slight flush on his face, and when he reaches up to adjust his glasses once again, Bokuto can’t help the fond look that takes over his expression, intense and soft, and Kenma shifts uncomfortably. “I… I get off in an hour, okay? We can talk then.”

Bokuto fist pumps the air. “Yes! Can it be a date this time? I still wanna take you to that mochi place!”

Kenma flushes darker and scratches the back of his neck, fingers playing with his slightly grown out undercut as he avoids Bokuto’s happy, pleasant gaze. 

Bokuto’s been - ah,  _ pursuing _ him for a few weeks now, and Kuroo’s been nothing if not encouraging, and even Akaashi has been pushing Kenma to give him a chance. At first Kenma had absolutely no desire to date anyone when he started university, let alone someone he’s constantly associated with  _ loudbrighthappy _ since Kuroo introduced them back in high school, but over the past few weeks Bokuto’s been warming him up inside, easing him into the idea of a possible crush, and Kenma’s  _ terrified _ . 

Kenma remembers the first time Bokuto asked him out on an official date, so blunt and stark, “ _ Kenma, hey, we should go on a date! Can I take you to that mochi place you like?” _

Kenma had froze up and bit his thumb as he mumbled a very quiet, “ _ No thanks _ ,” into the air between them. Kuroo had laughed from his place sitting next to Kenma at the cafeteria table, and Bokuto nodded solemnly. 

“ _ It’s okay! I know we don’t really know each other yet, but I’ll try again soon!” _

And Kenma had…. been surprisingly eager for that ‘soon’. His cheeks flushed red, and Akaashi had smirked at him from across the table as Bokuto went back to shoveling food in his mouth, Kuroo making disgusted noises at him before doing the same thing. 

Life went on, they all continued to hang out, and Bokuto continued to ask Kenma out on dates, taking the hesitant rejection in stride even as the rejections got progressively less immediate and more hopeful, more, “ _ Not tonight, Bokuto-san,”  _ instead of just a plain ‘no’.

And with Bokuto constantly visiting him at his on campus job at the library, it’s been very hard to ignore the feelings blossoming inside of Kenma’s chest. Bokuto’s just so  _ earnest _ , and he’s warm and concerned about Kenma’s well being, and god, Kenma’s had such a long day today. Three students arguing with him over late fees, a study group causing a complete mess and leaving stacks of textbooks and wrappers from snacks all over the lounge area he had to clean up, his coworker calling out and leaving Kenma in charge of the video equipment  _ and _ books. And he’s just - he’s tired, he’s cold, and he  _ has a crush on Bokuto _ . 

“Yes,” Kenma says, voice slightly strained as he eyes the clock. Fifty two minutes left of his shift. “Yes, it can be a date this time.”

Bokuto’s face falls, the smile slipping off his face, and for a second Kenma thinks he’s made a mistake, but then Bokuto's gnawing on his lower lip, face bursting with color as a flush spreads across his cheeks, and it’s so  _ cute  _ that Kenma feels his heart twist. Bokuto leans back, rocking back on his heels and suddenly he looks very determined, nodding curtly and puffing out his chest as he says, 

“I’ll meet you here in an hour! Have a good shift at work and stay hydrated, okay!”

And then he’s off, his bag bouncing against his thigh as he dashes out the door, and the walk to his dorm from the library is a good ten minutes at least, so Kenma has no idea what Bokuto’s even going to  _ do _ in the short amount of time until he gets off work, but he steels himself as he slowly realizes  _ shit, I’m going on a date with Bokuto. I’m going on a  _ **_date_ ** **.**

Kenma quickly pulls out his phone and slumps against the desk, hoping to god no one walks in because he really doesn’t want to deal with anyone right now as he processes his current situation.

**_Kenma (4:10 pm):_ ** _ im dying _

**_Kuroo (4:10 pm):_ ** _ is it work??? who do i need 2 beat up. is it that annoying economics major that always flirts w u _

Kenma bites his lip and rolls his eyes. 

**_Kenma (4:11pm):_ ** _ no its the annoying psych major that always asks me out _

**_Kuroo (4:12pm):_ ** _ LMAO bo???? did he visit u at work again? I told him to give u Peace but he likes u so much ;) _

**_Kenma (4:12pm):_ ** _ yea i kno. he asked me out again. I said yes _

Kenma looks up when the door opens, but luckily it’s just a student with headphones in and a handful of books, dropping them in the return bin before turning around and exiting again. Kenma lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and when his phone vibrates again, it’s three texts in succession. 

**_Kuroo (4:14pm):_ ** _ LOL WHAT OH MY GOD!!!  _

**_Kuroo (4:14pm):_ ** _ GO BO!!  _

**_Kuroo (4:14pm)_ ** _ : GET SOME im so proud :’) _

Kenma tries to stifles a small laugh, a giddy feeling settling suddenly into his chest, his heart beating around like a set of butterfly wings. 

**_Kenma (4:15pm):_ ** _ shouldn’t you be texting that to him and not me? _

**_Kuroo (4:15 pm):_ ** _ shhh let me have this moment. my best bro and my son are finally gonna go out. what made u finally see the light? was it the biceps? _

Kenma flushes and looks up quickly, as if he’s expecting Bokuto to be standing there right in front of him reading his phone screen or something. 

**_Kenma (4:16 pm):_ ** _ don’t call me your son that’s weird. and i don’t know. I just like him i guess. _

Kuroo shoots him a few more texts, wishing him luck on his date and that he’s going to give Bokuto the ‘if you hurt him you’re dead’ talk, and Kenma can’t help the happy smile that twitches against his lips as he puts his phone away, leaning back on the counter as he eagerly waits the end of his shift. He catches his reflection in the computer monitor, and he bites his lip, nervously reaching up to tighten the messy bun atop his head, and when a few strands fall around his face he frowns but leaves them be. It’s Bokuto, Bokuto doesn’t care about his hair or what he’s wearing. Bokuto just likes company, and for some godforsaken reason he’s chosen Kenma as his company. Kenma has no idea  _ why _ Bokuto seems to like him so much, but he’s not complaining, and as the minutes tick by, Kenma slowly grows more reassured and even  _ excited _ about this date. 

Sure enough, right at 4:59, Bokuto bounds back into the library, but this time there’s a single flower in his hand. It’s wrapped in cellophane, and the plastic crinkles as he grins at Kenma, waiting for the shorter boy to clock out and tuck his lanyard into his bag and come around the desk to face him. 

“All the fancy flower shops were too far to walk to, but I managed to find this one at the pharmacy a few blocks over!” Bokuto says as he holds the flower out to Kenma, and Kenma hesitantly takes it from him. It’s a simple little pink flower that Kenma can’t place a name to (Akaashi is better with botanicals than he is), but it’s pretty, and Kenma finds himself unknowingly smiling. Bokuto’s looking at him like he’s  _ everything _ , and it’s so warm that Kenma sighs and clears his throat before he gets engulfed too deeply into his stare. 

“Should we go? I remember you telling me you’d buy me mochi.”

Bokuto perks up, and he’s grabbing Kenma’s wrist and dragging him out of the library before Kenma can even think to wave goodbye to his coworker behind him. 

\--

They take the bus to Kenma’s favorite mochi place, and during the ride Kenma gets a few more texts from Kuroo. He ignores them, but then he sees one from Akaashi and he clicks it curiously. 

**_Akaashi (5:12pm):_ ** _ i heard the news. please tell him to take good care of you  _

**_Kenma (5:13pm):_ ** _ i’m sure he will. thank you, akaashi _

Kenma looks up and finds Bokuto blushing furiously at his phone, and he has a sneaking suspicious that Akaashi is also texting him too. The thought makes him smile to himself, and he leans slightly into Bokuto’s side, the warmth good and welcome. 

They make it to the mochi shop, and Bokuto talks his nerves away with stories about his day and about his classes, letting Kenma listen and hum in response when needed. Bokuto is so animated when he talks, and Kenma knows this, but he’s never really let himself unabashedly acknowledge it or take it in. It’s endearing, and Kenma finds himself tugging at Bokuto’s sleeve when he gets too into it and almost walks into a trashcan as they walk along the street with their food. 

It’s all very easy and simple, and Kenma doesn’t know why he didn’t agree to go on a date with Bokuto sooner. He used to tell himself it was because he wasn’t prepared to handle such energy, but one of his best friends is Hinata Shouyou, and if he can handle  _ him _ , then Bokuto would be like a walk in the park. 

He is a little more touchy than Shouyou is, though, but Kenma finds that he doesn’t particularly mind. He’s used to affection from being friends with Kuroo his entire life, who’s the definition of a tall, lanky, attention-seeking cat. So the brush of fingers against his arm and the squeezes to his shoulder from Bokuto aren’t anything new. 

“I’m really glad you finally agreed to go out with me,” Bokuto says as they take a seat on the bus, headed back to campus. 

“You’re very persistent,” Kenma says quietly, but there’s a twinge of red to his cheeks as he stares down at his hands, picking at the skin near his thumb. Persistence isn’t the only reason Kenma agreed to a date, and Bokuto grins at him as he sees the flustered state Kenma’s in. 

They walk back to the dorms, and Bokuto keeps a respectful distance between them, but he keeps getting sidetracked by the swirling leaves on the pavement, so Kenma rolls his eyes as he reaches out a hand to hold onto Bokuto’s elbow, tugging him along so he doesn’t wander off. 

They get to Kenma and Hinata’s dorm, and Kenma immediately digs for his keys to let them inside, but then he turns and Bokuto’s still standing in the door, looking frozen but eager, Kenma rolls his eyes once again. 

“You can come inside, you know.”

“But - but that wouldn’t be a proper first date!” Bokuto protests, his cheeks coloring adorably as he straightens up and nods. “A gentleman walks his date home, and leaves with a sincere goodbye and a kiss to their hand.”

Kenma hides his smile behind his hand as he kicks off his shoes. “Come inside and you can kiss my hand while we watch something on my laptop, if you’d like.”

Bokuto seems to vibrate in place as he scrambles inside, kicking the door shut behind him and following Kenma’s lead of toeing off his shoes. He sheds his jacket and places it atop Kenma’s on his desk chair, and finally Bokuto lets himself look around as Kenma hunts around for his laptop under the piles of school books and clothes. 

The dorm is small - typical of a freshman dorm, really - with two beds on either side of the room. There’s two small desks at the end of each bed, and a door to his left that probably leads to an even tinier bathroom. Kenma seems to fit right into the space, though, but Bokuto feels like he’s a little too much. He hesitates when Kenma climbs on the bed, but when Kenma just looks at him and raises an eyebrow, Bokuto grins and climbs on next to him, closest to the wall. He wants to give Kenma his space, he doesn’t want to move too fast lest Kenma changes his mind and decides this date was a bad idea after all. In reality, he knows that Kenma doesn’t do things or agree to things unless he really means it - he’s too lazy to play games with people's hearts - but Bokuto is still nervous with the need to  _ impress _ . 

But then Kenma curls into Bokuto’s side, opening his laptop on his thighs and pulling up youtube. Kenma is small and warm against him, and Bokuto thinks  _ fuck it _ , as he gently wraps an arm around Kenma’s shoulders. Kenma relaxes after a moment, and a small smile quirks at the corner of his lips. 

“There’s a youtube channel I think you’d really like,” he says after a while, clicking through a few links. “It’s just this girl and she makes miniature food. It’s very relaxing.”

Kenma looks so at peace after he starts the video, and Bokuto feels a sudden fondness flood through his body. Kenma’s  _ never _ at peace around other people, unless it’s Kuroo or if he has a video game in his hand. The fact that he seems relaxed enough to slump into Bokuto’s side, his hand coming up to hook into the front of Bokuto’s shirt, it’s incredibly rewarding. 

“Bokuto-san,” Kenma murmurs after a moment, tugging at the fabric in his grip. “Why did you continue to pursue me, even after I rejected you?”

Bokuto grins and tightens his arm around Kenma’s shoulder. “Because! I like you a lot, and you never really explicitly told me to leave you alone? So I just figured you weren’t ready, and I was willing to wait as long as it took until you were.” He pauses, and then his smile softens. “And Kuroo never told me to stop, either, so I figured he knew something was bound to happen between us.”

Kenma huffs, because of  _ course _ Kuroo would know he’d end up saying yes to Bokuto at some point. Kuroo knows him better than he knows himself, sometimes. 

“You’ve changed a lot since high school,” Bokuto says, “But I even liked you back then, you know?”

“You did?” Kenma blurts, turning to fully look at Bokuto, laptop sliding off his thighs and onto the space next to him. Bokuto looks  _ nervous _ , all of a sudden, and Kenma purses his lips. 

“We hardly knew each other, how could you like me?”

Bokuto shrugs, avoiding Kenma’s searching eyes. “You were so quiet but I knew it wasn’t because you were shy. You were selective about who you gave your attention to, and the first time you gave it to me, I never wanted you to  _ stop _ giving it to me!” Bokuto rubs the back of his neck, and he grins. “Plus, you were super cute!”

Kenma rolls his eyes, but he feels his own face flush with embarrassment. 

“You’re cute now, too,” Bokuto says, reaching up a hand to tap Kenma’s glasses. “Like a cute little librarian!”

“Please don’t call me that,” Kenma wheezes, but he ducks his head on a smile because Bokuto’s so  _ earnest _ , and it’s so, so refreshing. 

“Can I kiss you?” Bokuto blurts out suddenly, and when Kenma glances back up, Bokuto flails a bit. “I mean - your hand! Can I kiss your hand?!”

Kenma mutters a quiet, “Oh my  _ god _ ,” before cupping Bokuto’s face in both hands and bringing him down for a kiss, their lips sliding together clumsily. Bokuto makes a surprised noise and flaps his hands again, but then finally settles one on the back of Kenma’s neck, the other along the curve of Kenma’s waist. Kenma doesn’t have a whole lot of experience with kissing or dating in general, but it feels so easy with Bokuto, and Kenma just follows his lead, brushing his thumbs shakily along Bokuto’s cheeks as he breathes against his lips. 

“Was that - I mean, is this okay?” Bokuto whispers, and Kenma swallows thickly, letting his head fall into the crook of Bokuto’s shoulder as he finally lets himself smile, wider than he’s smiled in a long time. 

“Yes,” Kenma breathes out, winding his arms around Bokuto’s neck. “It’s  _ okay _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> send me rarepair prompts!!!! ---> [crunchrapsupreme.tumblr.com](http://crunchrapsupreme.tumblr.com)


	7. kuroo/akaashi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> making out + shotgunning
> 
> based on this prompt from tumblr: "whenever you saw me you’d shout ‘WHOOOOOOOOO’ really loudly and then do finger guns at me before walking off to god knows where” au

“ _ Whoooooo!”  _ Tall, dark and - okay,  _ handsome _ , Akaashi thinks reluctantly - screams at him yet again, waggling finger guns at him as he saunters through the living room. Akaashi’s at a friends house party, and though Suga told him it would be more like a ‘small get together’, Akaashi is watching all of the people flooding in at random intervals and is feeling a little skeptical about the ‘small’ part. 

“Who  _ is _ that guy?” Akaashi mutters, nodding towards the taller boy who keeps  _ fingergunning him _ every damn time he enters the room. The guy is currently back in the kitchen, most likely pouring himself another drink. Akaashi has a joint in his fingertips, and he takes a drag as Kenma shrugs next to him.

“Dunno. He seems kind of obnoxious.”

“Who’s obnoxious?” Suga says, popping out out of nowhere and handing Akaashi and Kenma a drink. 

“That tall guy with the shitty hair,” Akaashi says, taking another drag before handing the joint to Kenma. “He keeps catcalling me and I’m not sure how to take it.”

“Take it well,” Suga nods. “That’s just Kuroo. He’s a giant dork when he’s not drinking himself into an illiterate fratboy at parties.” 

Akaashi hums, and soon he sees that mess of black hair waltz back into te living room, and when his eyes meet Akaashi’s, he startles a bit as if he’s forgotten everything in his brain, but then he grins once more,  _ whoo-ing _ loudly and clicking finger guns towards the shorter boy. 

Akaashi tilts his head to the side, lifts the hand not holding his beer, and shoots a quick, expressionless finger gun right back at this Kuroo dude. 

Kuroo freezes, the smile slipping from his face in shock as if that was the  _ last _ thing he ever expected to happen, and then the most surprising thing happens. 

Kuroo, the obnoxious asshole who's been shamelessly flirting with him all night,  _blushes_. 

Not like, a mild flush, either. He goes absolutely  _ scarlet _ , from his neck up to the tips of his ears, and he stumbles into the couch as he darts back into the kitchen, movements slurred slightly from intoxication as he escapes to the other room. He vaguely hears of call of, “ _ Bokuto he FLIRTED BACK!”  _ before Suga’s laughing loudly next to him, gripping Akaashi’s shoulders. 

“Um,” Akaashi says, raising an eyebrow as Kenma hands the joint back to him. “What?”

“I think you broke him,” Kenma observes, and Suga laughs loudly again. 

“Kuroo’s not really used to people actually... - ah,  _ acknowledging  _ his shitty attempts at flirting,” Suga points out, snickering when Akaashi rolls his eyes. 

“So he shamelessly flirts with people at parties but doesn’t actually expect them to flirt  _ back _ ?”

Suga shrugs. “Probably. You should go talk to him.”

Akaashi makes a face. “Too much effort.”

Suga laughs. “You spend too much time with Kenma.”

Kenma makes a quiet noise of protest, but Suga just ruffles his hair and heads back to the kitchen to mingle some more, probably. Out of nowhere, though, a head of firey orange hair pops up in front of them, and when Akaashi sees Hinata’s dopey grin, he hides his own smile behind his beer as he spots the light blush beginning to crawl across Kenma’s face. 

“Kenma!” Hinata exclaims, and he smells like pot. Hinata doesn’t really drink too much (it upsets his stomach), so at parties he’s usually the weed connoisseur. Unfortunately (or, fortunately?) for him, weed does the  _ opposite _ of what it’s supposed to do with Hinata’s brain; it makes him  _ more _ energetic instead of chilling him the fuck out. 

“Kenma,” Hinata repeats, his fingers circling Kenma’s wrist. “Come dance with me!”

“There… isn’t any music, Shou,” Kenma points out quietly, but Hinata’s already waving to Akaashi as he drags Kenma away. Akaashi smiles slightly and raises his beer a bit as a farewell, and once he’s alone, he downs the rest of his beer. He’s also not that fond of alcohol, but sometimes it just feels like the right thing to ingest, and tonight it one of those times. 

Suddenly though, a person appears in front of him, holding two bottles of beer, and when Akaashi glances higher, he sees none other than ‘Fingerguns’ Kuroo.

He’s smiling speepishly, though, and he looks  _ nervous _ . 

Akaashi blinks at him. 

“Um,” Kuroo says, “I saw you finished your beer so I brought you another one!”

“I literally just finished my beer,” Akaashi points out, and then his eyes narrow slightly. “You had to have been watching me to be able to react so quickly.”

Kuroo looks panicked, and he stutters out an ‘ _ um _ ’ before Akaashi decides to take pity on him, and Akaashi’s lips twitch just slightly on a smile as he reaches out and takes one of the beers from Kuroo’s hands. So what? Kuroo is  _ cute _ , Akaashi can’t deny that. 

“Chill out,” Akaashi murmurs, taking another drag from his joint. He’s decently cross faded by now, so he doesn’t even think too much as he makes eye contact with Kuroo as he lets out the hit, slow and gradual, his head tilting forwards just slightly as if he’s waiting for Kuroo to  _ kiss him _ . The smoke billows away, and Akaashi blinks slowly before licking his lips. 

“D’you want a hit?”

Kuroo looks  _ physically pained _ . “God  _ yes _ .”

Akaashi actually does smile this time, and he grabs the sleeve of Kuroo’s shirt as he leads him out front to the porch, where’s it’s a little more private. Akaashi leans on the railing and motions Kuroo closer, says,

“C’mere, I’ll shotgun it to you.”

Kuroo makes a noise and flushes. “C’mon, now you’re just being  _ mean _ .”

Akaashi raises an eyebrow. “You flirted with me first.”

“I wasn’t prepared for you to flirt back!” Kuroo exclaims, tugging restlessly at his hair. “You’re so hot, holy shit. I didn’t even expect to get your  _ attention _ .”

“Do I make you nervous?” Akaashi says quietly, bringing the joint to his lips and inhaling. 

Kuroo nods weakly, his eyes following the movement of Akaashi’s lips as the boy leans up on his toes to gently blow the smoke into Kuroo’s parted lips. A hand comes up to grip Kuroo’s shoulder when their mouths brush, and Akaashi licks his lips and nods. 

“Good.”

Kuroo exhales the smoke from his mouth before making another quiet noise, and then he’s surging forward and cupping Akaashi’s face with both hands, pressing their lips together in a surprisingly gentle kiss. Akaashi hums and snubs the joint, tucking it behind his ear before winding both arms around Kuroo’s neck, slipping a hand into Kuroo’s hair. He tugs  _ hard _ , and Kuroo’s knees tremble slightly as he gasps and moves his hands down to Akaashi’s hips. 

Akaashi takes this opportunity to deepen the kiss, and he licks wetly into Kuroo’s mouth, tilting his head more and nudging their noses together. Kuroo pulls back after a few moments, and his face is so red that Akaashi snorts quietly. 

“You blush so easily,” he points out, and when Kuroo pouts, Akaashi rolls his eyes. “It’s cute.”

“Oh god, you are so out of my league I didn’t know my finger guns actually  _ worked _ .”

“To be fair, they don’t work,” Akaashi says, “I was just particularly fond of the way  _ you _ reacted after I flirted back.”

Kuroo whines and shoves his face into Akaashi’s neck, and Akaashi tugs on his hair once more, smiling quietly to himself. He’ll definitely have to attend more of Suga’s parties in the future, especially if Kuroo will be there too. Akaashi doesn’t think he’d mind getting catcalled by someone as long as it’s… well,  _ Kuroo _ .

Maybe next time he might even catcall back. He wonders how Kuroo would react to  _ that _ .  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> crunchrapsupreme.tumblr.com
> 
> send me rare pair prompts! ^


	8. bokuto/daichi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'char a does push ups while char b sits on their back'
> 
> becuz swole!bokuto is my jam m8

Daichi wakes up to the sound of pop music blaring through the speakers of the television, and he grunts as he sits up in bed and rubs at his eyes tiredly. His door is closed, but the bass from the music is still seeping underneath the crack, and Daichi frowns as he runs a hand through his hair, slipping off the bed and making his way towards the living room. 

He knows what he’s going to find, but he still can’t help the small stutter in his breath as he walks in to find Bokuto working out, just like he does every Saturday morning. 

He goes to the gym during the weekdays, but the campus equipment room is usually closed Saturday mornings until the afternoon for extracurricular training, so Bokuto has to do his morning workouts here in the apartment. Currently, Bokuto’s blasting his exercise playlist while doing one-armed pushups in front of the couch, and Daichi is a weak, weak man. 

Bokuto looks up as Daichi shuffles in and grins. “Daichi! Good morning!”

“I’m turning down your music,” Daichi says groggily, picking up the remote and trying to ignore the way Bokuto’s hair sticks to his forehead with sweat. 

Most people would probably be annoyed at being woken up at an ungodly hour because of something like this, but Daichi really can’t bring himself to care as he goes to sit on the couch, intending on half-dozing off as he messes around on his phone until Bokuto is finished, and then they can both go for a quick run together like they always do. Daichi sometimes does arm days with Bokuto, but today he’s feeling lazy and tired, and it’s  _ Saturday _ , with no class or work for him. He can afford to skip arm day every once in awhile. 

“How many are you at?” Daichi asks, and Bokuto grunts as he pushes down once more. 

“About… 40, for one-armed,” and then Bokuto frowns. “Uhg. I wish the weight room wasn’t booked today, I need something  _ heavier _ .”

“I could stack some textbooks on your back,” Daichi suggests as a bit of a joke, laughing slightly, but then Bokuto’s sitting up and pursing his lips in thoughts. 

“Books would probably slip right off,” he concludes, and then his eyes are zooming in on Daichi. “Hey, how much do you weigh?”

“Um,” Daichi says, going stock-still. “About… 70 kilos, give or take?”

“Awesome! Perfect. Come sit on my back while I do push ups.”

_ “What?” _

Bokuto’s smiling at him, settling back into position and tilting his head as he waits for Daichi to make his way over to him, and it’s early, and Daichi is tired and Bokuto looks… kind of comfortable, actually, and  _ warm _ , so Daichi finds himself pushing his rational thoughts aside as he makes his way over and hesitantly sits down on Bokuto’s back. 

“Is this - am I too heavy?” Daichi manages after a moment, shifting slightly, and Bokuto hums. 

“Hm, no, but maybe you could lie down or something? Like, evenly distribute your weight for me.”

Daichi wants to bury himself in his bed, hide under the blankets until the flush in his cheeks goes down, but instead he makes a noise of affirmation and slowly, carefully lies down so his back is pressed to Bokuto’s, their shoulder blades lining up, and when Daichi finally rests his head back against the back of Bokuto’s, he can smell the other man’s sweat faintly. Bokuto is  _ warm _ , incredibly so, and Daichi can feel the heat coming off him in waves. 

Bokuto hums happily, and begins pushing up, down. Up. Down. 

In a steady, easy,  _ impressive _ manner. And yes, objectively, Daichi knows that Bokuto’s strong. 

But. 

Daichi reaches into the pocket of his sweats to retrieve his phone, and he holds the device close to his face as he tries to even his breathing. He opens up his messages and texts the only person he feels would understand such a plight. 

**_Daichi_ ** _ : kuroo i need help. _

He gets a response almost immediately.

**_Kuroo_ ** _ : i’m not tutoring you today it’s saturday u asshole _

**_Daichi_ ** _ : no that’s not it. Have you ever noticed how strong bokuto is? _

**_Kuroo_ ** _ : LOL yes dude im his best friend i watched him go from twink to swole in a matter of like 2 years. I witnessed his evolution ;3 anyways what’s up? where r u? what do u need help w? _

Daichi frowns, and when he glances to the side, he can  _ see _ Bokuto’s biceps flex as he lowers, and then pushes back up, and it’s been a few minutes now. Bokuto’s breathing is coming out in soft pants, and Daichi can feel him tense and relax every time he does another push up. His fingers tremble as he types out another text. 

**_Daichi_ ** _ : i’m on top of bokuto right now _

**_Kuroo_ ** _ : DUDE!!!! _

**_Daichi_ ** _ : no like. I’m literally on top of him. He’s doing push ups and he asked me to lie on his back. _

“How are you holding up?” Daichi asks hesitantly after a few moments. Bokuto is being uncharacteristically quiet, and it’s  _ weird _ . 

“Just peachy,” Bokuto replies, and he wiggles his head a bit, jostling Daichi as he extends his arms back out, pushing up. Daichi can feel the sweat seeping through Bokuto’s tank top, and in reality it should be pretty gross, but it’s really  _ not _ , and Daichi kind of wants to peel the garment away from Bokuto’s body and lick the salty taste from his skin. “Just a few more left before I can’t feel my arms!”

“Don’t over work yourself,” Daichi chides.

Some obnoxious pop song is playing, it might be Brtiney Spears, actually, and Daichi squints at his phone, his face heating up at Kuroo’s response. 

**_Kuroo_ ** _ : oh shit lol just wait until he asks to bench press you he always told me i was too tall and lanky but i bet you’d be the perfect fit :333333 _

**_Daichi_ ** _ : i am going to die _

Bokuto’s excited yell of,  _ “and… done!” _ startles Daichi, and he drops his phone on his face in shock, the device bouncing off and onto the carpet a few feet away.

“Oh, sorry!” Bokuto says, finally lowering to the floor, and Daichi is quick to climb off of him, clumsy and still a little tired. Lying on Bokuto was pretty comfortable, and Daichi’s sure if his heart wasn’t racing so fast he’d have been able to fall right back asleep. 

“Ah, it’s cool. Um, so you’re all finished?” Daichi asks, sitting next to Bokuto on the floor as Bokuto sits up and stretches his arms, letting out a groan at the strain. Daichi’s mouth waters. 

“Yep! I probably could’ve done a few more, actually.”

Daichi rolls his eyes at Bokuto’s silly need to always  _ impress _ , but then he’s eyeing his phone across the carpet, and his gaze travels back to Bokuto suddenly, picking at his thumb nail idly. 

“Right. So, you bench press, right?”

Bokuto looks at him, tilting his head. “Yeah!”

“So like - hypothetically, of course - you’d be able to bench press, say, a  _ person _ , if you wanted to, right?”

Daichi’s sure his face is  _ red _ by now, flushed deep and obvious, and he can’t bring himself to look Bokuto in the eyes, holy shit. He wishes he had his phone in his hands for a distraction, because Bokuto’s taking so long to answer and Daichi’s almost ready to slink all the way back to his room and pretend this conversation never happened. 

A body shifts closer, and Daichi glances up when Bokuto’s knees knock into his own. He’s  _ grinning _ , but his eyes are perceptive, inquiring, and Daichi swallows heavily. 

“I’m sorry, just - Kuroo told me you could - ”

“Do you want me to bench press you, Daichi?” Bokuto asks bluntly, blinking widely at him, and Daichi feels something twist in his gut so hard it’s unreal. 

“God,  _ yes _ .”

Bokuto grins then, wicked and knowing, but also  _ sweet _ , and he leans forward a bit more. “I’m a little sweaty right now, but can I kiss you?”

Daichi’s hands tremble as he raises them up to cup Bokuto’s face, and his body launching into Bokuto’s lap is enough of an answer for both of them. 

Bokuto’s hand come up and hold onto Daichi’s thighs, and when he lifts Daichi closer, seemingly effortlessly, Daichi is hit with that sudden punch to his insides once more, because he did  _ not _ know how into being manhandled he was until crushing on Bokuto. All he’s been able to think about since they moved in together last semester was how much he wanted Bokuto to back him into a wall, pick him up, and kiss him silly. 

They’re on the floor right now, but the kissing part is still standing strong, and Daichi’s willing to settle for the wall on another day. 

Miley Cyrus is playing now, through the television, and Bokuto’s arms are strong as they wind around his waist. He  _ is _ really sweaty though, and Daichi can taste salt on Bokuto’s lips when he pulls back. “You really should shower.” Daichi says. “You’re all sticky.”

Bokuto waggles his eyebrows. “I’m not done working out yet, though.” And then he leans closer, kissing the tip of Daichi’s nose adorably, and Daichi is  _ smitten _ . “I’ve still got about... 70 kilos of sexy twenty one-year old to bench press.”

“Oh, my god,” Daichi whispers, laughing loudly and suddenly as he presses his face into Bokuto’s neck, but he can’t help the butterflies beating their wings rapidly in his stomach at the thought of Bokuto’s arms around him, lifting his weight effortlessly and easily. 

Heat pools low in Daichi’s stomach, and he clings to Bokuto tighter. He’s not sure they’ll make it very far in the rest of Bokuto’s workout this morning, if Daichi has anything to say about it. 

“Maybe you can take a little break,” Daichi says, trying to ignore how his voice trembles. He slides his hands over the expanse of Bokuto’s shoulders, feeling the muscles shifting under his touch. “You can… bench press me… on the way to the bedroom, if you want?”

Bokuto’s excited howl causes Daichi to laugh again, and his heart swells happily as Bokuto stands up abruptly, carrying them both to the bedroom so fast Daichi’s almost scared he’s going to fall. 

Which, he kind of  _ has _ , already. Fallen, he means. 

The thought makes him bite his lip on a smile as Bokuto finally tumbles them both onto the bed. 


	9. kuroo/yaku, nsfw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ball gags + vibrators + choking

“I honestly can’t tell who wants this more,” Yaku says, “Me, or you.”

“Me, probably,” Kuroo responds, and he’s grinning, as he backs up on the bed, his heels slipping against the sheets. He’s already stripped down to his boxers, and Yaku rolls his eyes when Kuroo flops back on the mattress, arms spread out and hair flopping in his face. “You can choke me too, if you want.”

Yaku snorts. “You’re a sick fuck, you know that?”

“With that kind of foul language, I should be the one gagging  _ you _ ,” Kuroo smirks, but then his body stiffens when Yaku tosses the cuffs at him. They hit his chest and bounce off to the side, and he picks them up curiously. 

“Cuff yourself,” Yaku says, and the lack of stutter in his voice is like an iron rod smacking on the concrete, heavy and loud and unmistakable. Him and Yaku have this intense push and pull of a relationship, which mostly constitutes to Kuroo pulling and pulling and  _ pulling _ , and Yaku getting fed up and pushing him back until he  _ submits _ . 

Kuroo can feel an icy cold jolt travel up his spine as he cuffs himself, having perfected the art of binding both of his wrists in the velcro cuffs by using his teeth to tighten his other hand. He used to be pretty bad at it, but Yaku made him practice for two hours one night until he could do it flawlessly.  

“Done,” Kuroo says smugly, flapping his bound wrists at Yaku. “Hey, why are you still dressed? C’mon, I’m  _ ready _ .”

“You talk too much,” Yaku sighs, but he sheds his shirt anyways. Kuroo wolf whistles, and Yaku glares, and then he’s crawling onto the bed, a very threatening looking item clutched in his left hand. He’s like a goddamned minx, Kuroo swears. His back is arched as he slinks forward, looking up at Kuroo through his lashes as he settles himself on Kuroo’s hips, and he drops the item onto Kuroo’s chest as Kuroo lies back. 

It’s a ball gag, dark red in color with leather straps connecting it together. It looks a little bigger than Kuroo was anticipating, but he still feels his body thrum with excitement. 

“Okay?” Yaku asks, softer this time, and he grips Kuroo by the chin, gentle but still firm as he searches his face. 

“Okay,” Kuroo breathes out, and when Yaku raises an eyebrow, Kuroo nods. “Yeah, green.”

“Good,” Yaku says, his voice dipping lower. He’s not a very smooth talker (that’s more of Kuroo’s forte), but he knows exactly how to pitch his words in order to get Kuroo to squirm beneath him. “Open up.”

Kuroo makes an exaggerated  _ ahhhh! _ noise as Yaku places the ball gag in his mouth, and when he leans close in order to fasten the straps behind Kuroo’s head, Kuroo presses his nose into Yaku’s neck, inhaling deeply and smelling the clean scent of his skin. 

“Now,” Yaku says, grabbing Kuroo by his cuffed wrists and lifting up, pressing them against the bed above Kuroo’s head. Kuroo grabs the rods of the headboard tightly, fingers curling around the wood, and Yaku nods. “Keep them there. Can you do that?”

It’s not a question. Kuroo nods. 

Yaku drags his nails down Kuroo’s chest lightly, grazing past his nipples as Kuroo squirms, and he doesn’t say a word as he cups his hand over the bulge in Kuroo’s boxers, squeezing him  _ just _ so, and Kuroo breathes out sharply through his nose, his eyelids fluttering. 

“I know the gag is to shut you up,” Yaku says, “But I’m going to make you scream.”

Kuroo tries to say something, but it’s muffled behind the gag, and Yaku just snorts and tugs Kuroo’s boxers off, tossing them aside as he grabs something from the side table before settling back between Kuroo’s legs. Yaku loves this, the control he gets, and the fact that Kuroo trusts him so much with this. The fact that Kuroo so easily hands himself over, eager and pliant. A cat that’s been tamed, really. 

Kuroo’s eyes widen as they see the item in Yaku’s hands. It’s a vibrator wand, one of their more powerful ones, and Kuroo’s already twitching in anticipation, his cheeks heating up as Yaku reaches out and gives Kuroo’s dick a few firm strokes, milking a few beads of precome from the tip as he squeezes tightly. Kuroo moans behind the gag, his cock heavy and warm in Yaku’s hand, but then he’s yelping when Yaku presses the wand right under his balls, on the lowest setting. He’s gotta build him up thoughtfully, after all. 

“Keep your legs spread,” Yaku says evenly, nudging Kuroo’s knee with his elbow. “Wider, c’mon.”

Kuroo spreads his thighs further until he can feel a slight burn in his muscles, and Yaku rubs a hand along his inner thigh in approval. “Good boy.”

Kuroo preens at the praise, his chest beginning to heave in stilted breaths as Yaku ups the power of the wand, dragging it up the length of Kuroo’s cock and watching as Kuroo twitches in response, his legs beginning to shake and fingers turning white where they’re gripping the headboard for dear life. Kuroo can feel drool beginning to pool in the corners of his mouth, but his mind goes strikingly blank when Yaku ramps up the vibrations out of nowhere and holds the wand just under the head of his cock. 

Kuroo  _ screams _ , his eyes flying open wide and back arching as his thighs try to close, but Yaku’s sitting in between them, and Kuroo makes a distressed, whiny little noise as Yaku  _ tsk’s  _ and presses a hand against Kuroo’s knee, pushing his legs back apart nice and open. Kuroo’s trembling so hard the bed’s shaking, and Yaku quickly takes the vibe away before Kuroo can succumb to the sensations. Kuroo’s body immediately deflates in relief, and there’s a line of drool dripping down his chin now, shiny and glistening. Yaku reaches up and presses the ball gag in harder, and Kuroo winces as he swallows around it, whining pitifully and so gorgeously. Kuroo is such a responsive person, so sensitive in all of the right places, and Yaku trails his fingers down the side of Kuroo’s neck, down to pinch at his nipple hard enough that Kuroo cries out. 

“Okay, let’s try again,” Yaku says, as if he’s tutoring Kuroo on a school subject or something else equally as mundane.  _ You got this problem wrong,  _ he’d say, handing him a new worksheet. _ Let’s try this again, okay? And this time, get it fucking right _ .

“You’re way too sensitive for this, aren’t you?” Yaku asks,  _ purrs _ almost, as he cranks the vibe about half way, pressing it against Kuroo’s slit, down the length, and back up again. Kuroo’s cock twitches in his hold, precome drooling onto his navel, and Yaku knows he’s close, but he also knows Kuroo’s not going to come until he’s told to. 

He grips the base of Kuroo’s cock, holding tight as he rubs the wand under the head of Kuroo’s dick again, methodical and merciless and  _ mean _ , until Kuroo’s back is arching up off the mattress and his feet are scrambling for purchase against the sheets, toes curling adorably as his body shakes with  _ too much, fuck, it’s too much _ . When Yaku looks up, he can see the glistening evidence of tears pooling in Kuroo’s eyes, glazed over and unfocused as he stares at the cracks in the ceiling. 

His body is flushed and his lips are shiny with spit, and Yaku smiles, genuine and real, as he ups the vibrations by another notch. Kuroo’s chest is  _ heaving _ by now, whistling breaths escaping through his nose as he whines and  _ sobs and please, please, please, Yaku -  _

At least, that’s what Yaku imagines he’d be chanting, but all he can hear are loud, muffled shouts every time Yaku presses the vibe against him harder, twisting it and cupping Kuroo’s cock against the endless, seemingly ruthless pleasure. 

Yaku hooks a leg over Kuroo’s to keep him  _ still _ , and Kuroo cries out and releases the headboard, his bound wrists darting down to try and shove the wand away without even thinking about it, and Yaku growls and grabs his wrists by the cuffs, looming over Kuroo as he lowers the wand’s vibrations briefly. 

“Still green?” Yaku rasps, kissing the tears from the swell of Kuroo’s cheeks. Kuroo sniffles, his forehead damp with sweat as he carefully raises his bound arms back up, fingers wrapping around the headboard once more as he nods. Yaku cups his face briefly, and then reaches behind Kuroo’s head to unfasten the ball gag, pulling it from Kuroo’s mouth. 

A thick line of drool connect the ball gag to Kuroo’s mouth obscenely, and Yaku quickly tosses the gag aside before darting down and gently sucking on Kuroo’s bottom lip comfortingly. 

Kuroo kisses back as much as he can, tired and exhausted and not completely there, but his voice is small and raspy as he says,  _ “green, Y-Yaku, green - please, please _ \- ”

“Shh,” Yaku says, and Kuroo sobs when Yaku cranks the vibrations up all the way, holding it still and heavy against Kuroo’s arousal as Kuroo thrashes beneath him, face going slack and neck arching back.

Yaku takes this as an invitation. 

His free hand closes around Kuroo’s throat, pressing in hard enough that Kuroo gasps before going silent, and his eyes widen, body straining up into Yaku’s touch as his entire body shakes, and shakes, and shakes. Until tears are sparkling in his lashes, and his tongue peeks out of his parted lips as he struggles to breathe, and that’s when Yaku knows he’s got him. 

“Tetsurou,” Yaku commands, rubbing the vibe harder and pressing his nose into Kuroo’s temple, his fingers heavy at the base of Kuroo’s throat. “I’ve got you, c’mon, let it out.”

_ Come for me _ .

Yaku releases his hold on Kuroo’s throat, and Kuroo chokes out the most pathetically perfect hiccupy cry as he finally comes, and it’s like noises are being wrung out of him like a punch to the gut, pained and relieved and tired and  _ overwhelmed _ . 

Kuroo’s speaking a clusterfuck of words - Yaku’s name, mostly - and only once Kuroo has started actually  _ crying  _ again, nearly body wracking sobs from the overstimulation, does Yaku turn the wand off and toss it aside. Yaku’s barely sitting up next to Kuroo before the boy is already curling into his lap seeking comfort, sniffling and closing his eyes. 

“Hey, hey,” Yaku says softly but firmly. “Let me uncuff you first, dumbass.”

The insult is said with fondness, though, and Kuroo sighs when Yaku gets the velcro loose, tossing the cuffs aside as he lets Kuroo curl back into him. Yaku runs his hand soothingly up and down Kuroo’s back, shushing him quietly every time Kuroo’s breath threatens to hitch again. His other hand gently massages Kuroo’s jaw, most likely sore from the gag, and Kuroo presses into the touch.

“C’mon, you’re alright,” Yaku soothes, curling his body over Kuroo’s and kissing the crown of his head. “Hey, you did so good. Do you need some water?”

Kuroo clears his throat. “In a bit,” he rasps, voice gravelly. “Just ….hold me, for now?”

“Of course,” Yaku responds immediately, carding his hands through Kuroo’s dark hair, because Kuroo always gives up so much for him, always gives in so  _ nicely _ , that Yaku is only more than happy to hold Kuroo for as long as he needs to. Always. 


End file.
